


Too Bad You Don’t Realise How Beautiful You Are

by Pink_and_Velvet



Series: Because BOYS On Film Look Better [6]
Category: Duran Duran
Genre: 2010s, All You Need Is Now, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hand & Finger Kink, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Questionable Le Bon Lyrics, Sex nods, Singing, hand holding, rhythm section, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23072353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: John was more than ready to show Roger, his one and only, just how damn beautiful he was tonight. No questions asked.
Relationships: John Taylor/Roger Taylor (Duran Duran)
Series: Because BOYS On Film Look Better [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075265
Comments: 8
Kudos: 7





	Too Bad You Don’t Realise How Beautiful You Are

The sound of drumsticks clattering to the floor was finally enough to shake the bassist from his daze. John swung his bass behind his back and strolled over to Roger, who was more than a little pissed. Frustrated. John frowned, usually Roger never let anger show: the thought that he had, albeit a tiny outburst, was more than worrying.

He killed the track, _Too Bad You’re So Beautiful_ was playing. The synth part anyway, together they were still stuck on the percussion. The perfect accompaniment. 

“ _Flowers in your brain?_ ”

To hell with it, John whipped of his bass and laid her to rest at the side. John rounded Roger’s kit; who craned his neck to meet him. Without word, John slipped in behind him; forcing Roger to slide forward on the seat, allowing John in.

“I wish I knew, _what’s in your head._ ”

John shuffled in closer, running his huge hands up Roger’s bare arms. He smiled to himself upon feeling a small shiver. He plopped his head onto Roger’s shoulder, lips caressing the sweat that coated the drummer’s neck.

“What’s wrong?” John whispered, more than prepared to be bucked off.

John was met by a lengthy sigh. He frowned deeper, eyebrows furrowing. These days it was near impossible to shut Roger up, unless he was playing so, John assumed, this was still somewhat in character. It didn’t stop him worrying further.

“Babe?” He questioned, searching for those smooth and plush lips that had dropped open not too far from his own.

John thanked every divinity that he could when Roger turned to face him.

“ _Too Bad You’re So Beautiful,_ Johnny.” Roger breathed, tone heavy.

He was stunned, breath hitching, as the drummer’s lips latched onto his. Nipping and sucking, driving John wild as he hummed into Roger’s open mouth. Their tongues battled, tangoed, quick to fall in sync. John felt the need to breathe rush up on him far too fast, reluctantly he parted. He immediately leant forward so the Taylors were forehead to forehead, chests rising and falling in time.

“Rog, baby, what’s wrong?” John tried again, lacing his fingers with Roger’s.

Back when they were young, their hands would’ve been wrapped in delectable leather; brushing up each other maddeningly. John totally lost in the sensation the fabric of Roger’s favourite gloves bought him.

But now; their palms were always open. They didn’t need to hide anything nor play up to an image like back then. They were much more relaxed, unguarded.

His hands were freezing. _The freeze, minus twenty and counting._ John thought it odd: he was expecting the familiar sweat of the familiar palm to intermingle with his own. Not this, the coldness.

“You’re not uh, you know, thinkin’ of… _leaving_ again are you?” He said it before he could stop himself.

John flushed bright red, eyes wide at his own outburst. He disengaged his eye contact with Roger, letting the drummer’s hand fall back into his lap. The silence was deafening for them both.

“Christ John, no!”

John remembered how to inhale.

“I’m not, it’s not that at all.”

John remembered how to exhale.

“It’s just,” Roger began, pausing to carefully choose his words, “this damn track has been driving us both mad.”

At that John giggled, Roger immediately tensed in his grip.

“Who’s it even about?”

“Beats me, Froggy.”

“Bullshit. It’s just Charlie whoring you out again, thirty years later!”

And now John was laughing so damn hard he had given himself the hiccups.

“Why are you laughing, Johnny?!” His voice was light, trying to buck John off but not really trying at the same time. “Think about it, you know I’m right.”

“Shit-” he hiccuped mid chuckle, “Rog, I hadn’t… nobody even… shit!”

“You really are a _deluded fool_.”

John supposed he deserved that one. Or did he?

“Who you’re still _so fascinated_ with.”

“To bad you’re so fricking annoying.”

“Well, you’re definitely not _king of nothing._ ”

There was a pause, a consideration. “How so, John?”

John smirked, it graduated into a smile that could rival the Cheshire Cat. His string beaten hands lurched forward, tangling themselves in Roger’s t-shirt, reeling him in.

“You managed to tie me down, remember?” He teased, voice dropping low as his hands did the same, “ _me_ , of all people.”

“Yeah I did, Mr _Insta-fab_.”

At that John cringed. The dig was subtle, it would probably be missed by many but the die-hard fans might just believe it. But it didn’t really matter because Roger’s lips had enclosed on his again, this time in a much slower and more sensual embrace, flinging the thought far from his head.

Breathless, John ground out. “This… can only go _one_ way, huh?”

Roger chuckled, there were far too many ways that line could be taken. From their current situation, the fact that they were still going strong decades later or, well, the fact that men could love other men unconditionally.

“ _Still fascinated_.” The drummer breathed, holding John’s hand tight in his own.

That Taylors could love other Taylors unconditionally.

John was beaming and Roger was back to radiating his welcome warmth. He truly couldn’t be happier, John and it went without saying: too bad Roger was so damn beautiful, he’d never bloody realise it!

“It’s just far too bad, Rog, you never realise how beautiful _you_ are.”

The giggles finally stopped, together they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

“Be it 2011 or 1981.”

John was first to break the ice, pulling Roger in even closer so he could rest his head on the drummer’s strong chest. Re-familiarise himself with his heartbeat, his rhythm. The rhythm to John’s life, to his world.

It went without saying, Roger was indeed the most gorgeous of them all. He had aged phenomenally, they all had but Roger… goddamn.

“Why don’t we get outta here? Try and tackle the bass another time?” John’s voice dropped lower, to a dangerously seductive tone. “I’d like to _stroke your_ … ahem, _head_.”

“ _Sleepy_.” Roger insisted.

“Not what I meant. But yeah, _that_ too.”

Roger rolled his eyes.

“ _I’m a hostage,_ Rog, to that sexy _face o’ yours!_ ”

Groaning, “stop singing, John.”

“ _Lay me on your bed_ and you’ve got it, Little Frog.”

John slipped off of the seat, offering out a long and tattooed to hell and back arm. His palm was open, inviting, beckoning Roger to his feet. He took John’s hand in his own, smiling wild, interweaving his fingers with John’s. Brushing the callouses of his fingers up against John’s.

Together they headed out of the studio, giggling like school girls all the way. The upbeat, nostalgic chorus of _All You Need Is Now_ filled John’s mind and he used it, embraced it, yanking Roger in closer to kiss him senseless.

John was more than ready to show Roger, his one and only, just how damn beautiful he was tonight. No questions asked.


End file.
